Mischief Managed
by BooBear4997
Summary: An elderly man is found wandering aimlessly around during a storm, he has eyes so old, so cold, for a man who had supposedly pulled the ultimate prank. Who is he? Where is he? Why is he there? And just what is he doing? Is he alone,or has he ever been? This man is one of two faces, but who owns the other face?


**Disclaimer: **I do not hold any claim to any recognizable characters, settings or themes.

**A/N: **I hope you guys like it, this is my first published story and I've worked really hard on it. I apologise if any of the characters seem a little OOC, but I tried to make them as realistic as I could.

Lightning cracked above the haunted domain, illuminating the ground and casting unearthly shadows across his path.

He wondered through the rows of marble, seemingly without a purpose to those who would glance upon the crazy old man. But if they had taken a closer look, they might just have noticed that he was not crazy at all, only a man with a blank expression. Too blank. His face seemed to hold no emotion whatsoever, only dark, empty eyes, too old for one who should of held such a carefree spirit.

The man trudged through the mud, thankful for the snow that had yet to fall, making his journey easier and less tiresome. He slowed to a stop when he reached a row of eight, one after the other. It was easy to see the differences in age as some of the stone had begun to crumble, while others had only started to grey.

He walked to the furthest on the left and crouched down so that he could trace the engraving with his fingers.

RIP

James Ignotus Potter "Prongs"

27.3.1960 - 31.10.1981

"Griffindor, where dwell the brave of heart."

The man looked on with tears in his eyes and let out a soft chuckle, knowing that the man that had been lain to rest, who had once been his guide throughout his schooling years, wouldn't leave this world without having his house prejudices set in stone. He then moved to the next in line and once again reached out his hand to trace the words he found there.

RIP

Lilly Potter née Evans

30.01.1960 - 31.10.1981

"Not Harry! Please ... have mercy ... Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything..."

He let out a choked sob as he traced the last words of a woman her son would never know before moving on.

RIP

Sirius Orion Black "Padfoot"

04.10.1959 - 18.08.1997

"We've all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."

The wisest words the man had ever said as he was able to overcome his prejudices were encased in stone for all to remember and live by. The next stone was one at which the man stood at a distance.

RIP

Peter Enid Pettigrew "Wormtail"

16.04.1960 - 31.10.1981

"I returned."

The two simple words made the man scoff, Pettigrew had returned from his presumed death only to die later by his own hand. However, they had opted to keep the original gravestone so that some may remember Wormtail, the chubby little boy who followed James Potter around like a lost puppy.

RIP

Remus John Lupin "Moony"

10.03.1969 - 2.05.1998

"'The Boy Who Lived' remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting."

His faith had always astounded the man, not questioning, just following the young Potter, just as he had his father before him. The next grave was different, the lettering was charmed to change colours after several days. Currently, it was neon orange.

RIP

Nymphadora Lupin née Tonks "Tonks"

23.02.1973 - 02.05.1998

"Don't call me Nymphadora, it's Tonks!"

He had to laugh there, because he should have known Tonks would have personally come back from the dead to set things straight if she was remembered as Nymphadora Tonks. The next grave however, was decidedly the hardest to visit.

RIP

Severus Snape "The Half Blood Prince"

9.01.1960 - 02.05.1998

"... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Laughing as he recognised some of the first words he'd ever heard the man say (the introductory sentence to all his first year classes it had seemed, every single year), the man withdrew from the marble, tears streaming down his cheeks as he realised that had he just tried to see past the hard exterior, that...no, he had been blind to his struggles just like everyone else. The last stone was what brought him to his knees with sobs wracking through his body, head bowed in grief. Of course he'd been buried here, he was a honorary marauder after all.

RIP

Fred Weasley "George"

01.04.1978 - 02.05.1998

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he saw the inscription. They were right about one thing, Fred and George had always confused those around them, even their own mother being unable to tell them apart and now they had pulled the ultimate prank. The one they had always dreamed of pulling, but could never have even imagined pulling it off. Fred Weasley was not the one to die during the Final Battle. His brother was.

In his death George Weasley had truly become the king of all pranksters, but of course, none were at all the wiser and they never would be. Until of course when Fred died and they took a look into the older twin's will.

With the storm still raging above his head, the man sat on his knees, with his head bowed for what seemed to be days. When his head finally rose, the elderly man's eye's held a spark, just a tiny little spark, that when ignited would light his eyes up with the joy they once held.

As the ageing man who was living under his dead brothers name turned to leave, he realised that several of the graves were missing something. And a small smile lit up his face as he retrieved his wand.

If anyone were to walk by at that moment, if they had just taken a closer look at the old man with ancient eyes and a genuine smile, they would have seen him carving two words into five separate tombstones.

And as he stood back to admire his handiwork, a voice called for him. "Dad! Dad! Where are-Oh! There you are, we've been looking for you everywhere!" It was his only child, Fredward George Weasley the second. "C'mon, I've gotta take you to Hogwarts, you do remember what today is right?"

A small smile made its way onto Fred Weasley's face as he assured his son that yes, he wasn't an idiot, he knew about the anniversary. He allowed his son to lead him out of the cemetery, reminding him of a remarkable likeness to his older brother Percy when he was young, who had definitely mellowed out in the fifty years since the war's end.

"What were you doing here anyway?"

"Oh, just visiting some old friends." He murmured as he turned for one last glance at the two words in blood red written at the foot of five tombstones before he was apparated away.

He smiled to himself and whispered the words as he felt the familiar tugging behind his navel.

**"Mischief Managed."**

_By BooBear4997_

Review if you can, I'd love any feedback on how my story is, any mistakes that I could correct or otherwise.


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